


One Too Many

by N_Scribe



Series: Of all the Little Moments (Collection of Hollirey Drabbles) [3]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Bobo doesn't get paid enough for this, But it's fluffier than it sounds, Character gets a little too drunk, M/M, mostly?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_Scribe/pseuds/N_Scribe
Summary: Getting called early in the morning because someone decided to let John Henry drink himself into a fit is not how Bobo wants to start his day. Luckily for everyone involved, especially said drunken idiot, Bobo likes Doc more than is probably good for him.
Relationships: Doc Holliday/Bobo Del Rey | Robert Svane
Series: Of all the Little Moments (Collection of Hollirey Drabbles) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701409
Kudos: 7





	One Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The plot and pairing are mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made. 
> 
> Author’s Note: Because I refuse to believe there wasn’t a time that someone had to call Bobo to come get drunk and belligerent!Doc from Shorty’s on occasion you all get this. 
> 
> It’s far fluffier than it sounds. 
> 
> Warnings (because I figure this needs to be said) involve a character severely intoxicated enough that they get sick. And it goes without saying (but I’ll do it anyway) always drink responsibly! 

_ One Too Many _

He’d gotten the call early, way too early. Sleepily, he fumbles for his phone not even looking at the number before giving a rough, “Hello?” 

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” comes Wynonna’s teasing tone that has all the effect of a bucket of ice water and he sits up sharply. 

“What...are you calling me for?”

“I would love to say just to chat but we both know that is a lie. Look, I don’t want to really know what it is that you have going on with Doc because I’m happier not wrapping my mind around it but the fact is that you’re clearly the most fit for the issue at hand so could you come and get your overly plastered whatever you two define this as before someone actually shoots him? Someone, like say, me?” 

Bobo is quiet a moment before he asks slowly, “You called and woke me up because Holliday is drunk and belligerent?” 

“Yeah, yeah he is. And it’s the kind of belligerent that might end up with someone challenged to pistols at dawn or something. Please just come and get him and deal with this?” 

He’d make some snarky remark about not being Holliday’s babysitter no matter what was between them but bites his tongue in that regard. Instead, he mutters, “Fine, I’m on my way.” 

“Good. Please hurry.” And the call ends as abruptly as it had started. Bobo runs a hand over his face and through his hair before dragging himself from the bed and getting into clothes. He opts for just enough to be decent as it was early and he wasn’t planning on being out long. He does, however, grab his familiar fur coat but doesn’t put it on, merely drapes it over an arm and heads out. 

John Henry had best have a damn good reason for being so ornery this early in the morning or so help him, he was going to fill the tub with cold water when he got back and shove the man in it. 

Stepping into the bar, he finds that for once, Wynonna might not be over-exaggerating Holliday’s state because the male was clearly in a foul mood and it was darkening by the moment. Sighing and wondering what had set the man off, he nevertheless crosses to him giving a curt, “You should have cut him off three hours or so ago.” 

“Sh-should mind your business…” 

He snorts softly as he takes the seat next to the other. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Now you can keep acting a fool which we know is all bluster and no true threat or you can come with me and we can work on getting you to sleeping this off.” 

“‘M not done.” 

“You were done three hours ago.” 

“I do not recall needing your permission to…” 

He pulls his coat off his arm before just draping it over the other and picking him bodily over his shoulder. The almost startled indignant squawking sound is most satisfying as he turns and heads for the door with his squirming and soon cursing bundle as he’d made sure to pin it around his arms to avoid him actually trying to lash out at him. He’s still sure they make a sight as he makes his way to his vehicle and man-handles the other in it before putting the child-lock on and shutting the door. 

Climbing in the driver’s seat, he gazes at the rearview mirror and his met with a glare that could send most men running (had unnerved Robert in the past as well) and remarks, “I don’t care how terrifying you think you are, you’re way passed the limit of tolerable drunkenness. What in the world got you that out of sorts?” 

The other sits in sullen silence as Bobo drives them back and he’s almost sure he’s ignoring him and not answering on purpose when he hears, “I didn’t want to have another argument about you.” The words are soft but angry. 

“So destroying your liver was the best way to handle that situation? John Henry, I thought we had gone over this.” 

“We have,” comes the angry response, “but what they don’t have the right to do is insult you when they know nothing about it!” 

He stills a moment before his lips curve upwards. “Why John Henry, did someone insult my honor? Warn you that I have less than decent intentions in all of this? And that’s what has you in such a state?” 

“To be fair it was either I downed that whisky or I was going to punch Deputy Dolls in the face.” 

Bobo shakes his head. “Let’s get you inside and sobered up,” he murmurs, turning off the vehicle, “Honestly, you are a disaster.” He could only imagine how many bottles it would have taken before the other thought better of doing just that. It was going to be a hell of a hangover no matter how one looked at it. Still, the thought was nice in it’s way that he’d gotten angry on Bobo’s behalf. Even if it meant said individual was going to have to deal with the aftermath. 

Of course it’s not long before the other’s constitution gives out and he wrinkles his nose as the male ends up at the toilet retching. “Told you so,” he murmurs as he brings his fingers gently through his hair and down his back. “Honestly, John Henry Holliday…” But he stays until the other stops and helps him clean up and rinse his mouth out before urging him gently to bed. Curling an arm around him gently, he tucks the (slightly) shorter male to him. “Sleep, idiot,” he murmurs fondly, “And no more of this sort of nonsense. You get this one free. Next time I leave you outside so the Revenants can watch you throw your guts up and laugh at your suffering.” 

He is sure it’s an empty threat but it makes him feel better for saying it as he settles himself back down to sleep. “‘M sorry,” comes the quiet mumble against his skin, “but you’re worth more than they give you credit for.” 

A soft chuckle escapes him. “I know that, idiot. Don’t let them get to you. Sleep and count yourself lucky that I feel more for you than they assume as well.” There is a soft incomprehensible mumble before the other’s breathing steadies. Bobo gives a softer smile. “I love you, too, John Henry,” he whispers to the dark, “You are stuck with me, Holliday.” 


End file.
